


Lights Out

by madrabbitgirl



Series: Slice of Love [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Crowley's Eyes (Good Omens), Crowley's Sunglasses (Good Omens), Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Friends to Lovers, Human AU, M/M, Power Outage, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, diner au, forgive me father for i have fluffed, plotless drivel, two idiots falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrabbitgirl/pseuds/madrabbitgirl
Summary: It's 4 A.M at the Curl Up & Pie Diner, which means it's the perfect time for a power outage and a little get-to-know-ya flirting.A.K.A. Aziraphale and Crowley awkwardly sit in the dark and talk.Part of the Slice of Love Human AU - you might need to read the first one in order to enjoy this little fic.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Slice of Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023696
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	Lights Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the Slice of Love AU but doesn't directly reference either of the previous stories so it might work as a stand alone?

“No one is going to come in on a night like this,” Newt lamented, leaning over the counter. He was tall enough that his arms dangled on the other side, but not graceful enough that the gesture could be called ‘draping’. He looked quite like an ironing board, actually. Aziraphale resisted the urge to sigh in agreement, just barely, and decided to take a seat at one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter. He gazed mournfully out the window. Rain spattered the glass and flashes of lightning were going off like paparazzi cameras, with loud thunder rolling overhead. 

“You never know,” Aziraphale attempted, trying to keep their spirits up. “Perhaps someone will come in for coffee or soup!” He paused, unable to believe his own cheerfulness, and finished with a lame, “It’s quite good weather for something cozy, don’t you think?” 

Newt lifted his head and gave the older man a _look_. “Maybe, but I don’t think most people are going to be going out for soup at four in the morning.” 

“It’s not quite four yet.” Aziraphale reached into his trouser pocket and produced an antique gold pocket watch, clicking it open at the top to reveal the current time. He usually wore it on a chain on his waistcoat, but during working hours he had to keep it safe and tucked away. “It’s… three twenty three.” 

“Close enough. No one is going to-” 

“Angel!” a voice called out as the bells above the door tinkled, proving Newt wrong. There was, of course, one idiot who hadn’t had the sense God gave a bedbug to stay home on a night like this. Aziraphale pressed one soft hand to his own cheek, staring at the wet ginger with an indulgent and somewhat pitying expression, as if to say, ‘this sweet, delightful moron’. 

“Crowley! What on Earth are you doing here? It’s pouring out!” 

Crowley shrugged, dripping onto the tile floor. His red hair was plastered over his forehead, causing his ever-present sunglasses to turn into a bit of a waterfall. “Was in the neighborhood, knew you had a few more hours on shift, just thought I might swing by and keep you company. Could do with a coffee.” 

“Good Lord, Crowley, you’re dripping all over the floor,” Aziraphale said in that prissy tone that also meant he was secretly pleased to see his new friend. He stood, looking about to see if there were any napkins or towels nearby. “Here, let me-” 

The lights above started to flicker. Thunder boomed deafeningly overhead. 

“That’s not good,” Newt said, straightening up with his eyes cast towards the ceiling. Aziraphale frowned.

“No, it certainly isn’t,” he agreed, just as the power kicked off, plunging the diner into darkness. “Oh, my!” 

There was a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by a booming yet gruff voice shouting, “What in the bloody blue buggering blazes-!” 

“I’ll go check on Shadwell,” Newt said. It was completely black inside the restaurant, with very little light coming from the street as all the lights outside were out as well. Newt pulled his phone from his pocket, illuminating his face as he activated the flashlight, and headed for the kitchen. The doors swung closed behind him. 

“Well. What now, I wonder? It’s not as though we could go home with all the street lights out as well,” Aziraphale murmured to himself. In theory, the restaurant should close as there was nothing they could really do, but the storm outside was raging and it was hardly safe to leave. 

“Yyyeahh,” Crowley drawled. His voice sounded much closer than Aziraphale remembered him being. There was another loud crack from Crowley’s direction and a muttered, “Fuck.” 

“Are you alright, my dear?” Aziraphale asked. He took a step in Crowley’s direction, keeping a hand on the counter top to guide him. 

“Yeah, just knocked my knee into a stool. Oof, watch it-” 

Aziraphale collided with a hideously wet body. Really, it had to be awfully uncomfortable to be as soaked through as Crowley was, and he was dripping down onto Aziraphale. Only, as those slender arms reached out to steady him, Aziraphale found that it wasn’t so entirely unpleasant a sensation after all. He took another step forward, a hand finding what he hoped was Crowley’s hip, only to feel something crunch loudly under his foot. 

“Fuck.” 

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked, looking downward, although the only thing he could see was darkness and the bare hint of their shoes. 

“My glasses.” 

“Oh! Oh, my dear, I am so very sorry!” Aziraphale said, feeling his cheeks heat up. How humiliating it was, to have effectively stomped on Crowley’s glasses. “I’m- Well, I’m just- This is so-” 

“That’s okay, angel. No big deal,” Crowley said, but apprehension had creeped into his tone. His hands were still gripping Aziraphale’s arms, holding the man closer than he probably needed to. Even though Aziraphale couldn’t see much, the hint of Crowley’s naked eyes were enough to drive him mad. “You want to try and sit down or something? Can’t see shit like this anyway.” 

“Certainly. There’s a booth just there- Ah! There we go,” Aziraphale said, guiding them to one of the booths. Sadly, he had to let go of Crowley when he sat down on the bench opposite him. He could make out the angular shadow outline of his friend, and heard the tap of his mobile phone being put down. “Are you alright? Oh! But I meant to get you a towel!” 

“Don’t worry about it, angel. Just stay where you are until the lights get back on,” Crowley told him. “Besides, s’not so bad.” 

“My dear, you are positively _soaked_ and it’s certainly not warm in here. Even I’m a little bit chilly. And your charming, er, glasses. Were they prescription? Will you need them to see when the power returns? I’m dreadfully sorry,” Aziraphale rambled. He fidgeted in his seat, unsure of what to do. 

“Ehh, I’ll be fine,” Crowley said. Aziraphale could see the outline of Crowley’s shoulders shrug, but his tone was too composed, too intense and carefully casual for Aziraphale to fall for that. He tutted. 

“Are you certain? If you’re somehow sight-impaired, well, I’d be happy to assist you. I could accompany you home, if you’d like,” Aziraphale offered. Crowley snickered. 

“Angel, if you want to come home with me, all you had to do was ask.” 

Aziraphale was blushing once again. As if someone like Crowley would ever really want to sleep with him. Although, he did wonder what it would be like to see that side of Crowley. Would his flat be as dark and shadowed as he was? Would he have comfortable furniture or something sleek and modern? Would he have a large bed…? Best not to follow that train of thought, Azirapahle thought with another wiggle. 

“That’s not what I meant at all!” he objected. Crowley cackled. 

“How d’you know I don’t just wear ‘em to look cool?” Crowley prompted, leaning forward. His entire face was shielded from Aziraphale with darkness, but vague hints of pale skin and sharp cheekbones lingered behind the shroud. Aziraphale shifted, feeling Crowely’s intense stare without being able to see it. 

“You could, I suppose. I don’t believe that’s the case, however. You’re much too upset at having lost them,” Aziraphale told him honestly. Crowley scoffed. 

“M’not upset,” he said. He huffed and Aziraphale felt the movement of air over his face. Crowley was leaning much closer than he’d thought. “Just a thing I’ve got. Causes some light sensitivity, I can get headaches sometimes. Besides, it does look cool.” 

“Oh yes, very cool to be wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night,” Aziraphale said. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Hmm, nah. I’d much rather hear about you, angel.” And at this, Crowley had snaked his hand over to touch Aziraphale’s, causing him to jump just a little. He realized that Crowley would take that as a rejection and before he could withdraw his hand, he tangled their fingers together. 

“Alright?” 

“Yeah, angel. S’alright.” Crowley’s hand, still damp and a little cold, squeezed his. His words sounded like they had a smile to the edge of them, a hint of bashfulness that Aziraphale found utterly charming. 

The kitchen door swung back open, however, and Aziraphale was pulling his hand away even though Newt couldn’t see too far ahead of him with only his phone to guide him. He had a tray in his free hand which he gingerly sat down on the table in front of them. Aziraphale noticed that Crowley turned his face away, gazing quite determinedly out the window. 

“Shadwell spoke with The Boss and he’s going to stay until the power comes back, just to watch over the food and make sure nothing spoils,” Newt said, taking two mugs of coffee and tiny pitcher of cream off the tray. He also unloaded two very nice-looking slices of lemon cake. “I’m going to help him take ice from the machine and put some buckets of it in the cooler.” 

“Oh! Should I come and assist?” Aziraphale asked, starting to make like he was going to stand. Newt waved his hand, his flashlight bouncing all over.

“No, don’t worry about it. He said to just ‘leave the southern pansy out front’ in case someone walks in. Technically, the Boss said you and I could go but,” Newt gestured with his flashlight again to the torrential downpour, “I figured we’d probably be better off here. Thought you might like some cake and there was still some coffee in the carafe. It’s half decaf, though, sorry.” 

Crowley’s face snapped back towards Newt, but the boy was already heading back towards the kitchen. He growled. “Does your cook really call you a pansy?” 

“It’s nothing, really, I assure you. Shadwell is just a little behind the times,” Aziraphale said, feeling around until he managed to pull one mug towards himself. He started groping for the sugar. “It’s not worth the battle and he really is quite sweet, in his own way.” Whatever Crowley might have felt about that, he let it slide for the moment, deciding to ask another question instead. 

“How’d you get to be on the late shift, anyway? You seem more like a day person. You’re so-” he trailed off, and Aziraphale could hear him picking up his own mug, without adding anything, of course. 

“Please don’t say sunny!” Aziraphale objected. Crowley snickered. The waiter shrugged, knowing that the root of his insomnia and the passionate hatred he’d formed around the word ‘sunny’ or ‘sunshine’ came from a similar place. “I- well. Since you asked, I went through a period where I.. where I didn’t sleep. Very much. I do have a bookshop, although the majority of my business has shifted to repair work.” Aziraphale said this very cautiously. Of course, it would be lovely to be able to have a friend and he should trust Crowley at least a little but he’d been burned so many times before that he was afraid to really be himself. Crowely’s outline shrugged. 

“If you have a day job, then why-?” 

“Well, there really isn’t much money in repairs. And I- like I said, I really didn’t- don’t! I really don’t sleep much. I was familiar with this place and I’d come by for a late night nibble now and again and one morning they were hiring. It’s been nice to have a bit of extra income and I really enjoy the distraction,” Aziraphale said, blushing. He hid his mouth against his cup as he spoke, hoping that Crowley wouldn’t think him too strange. “And I was already familiar with their merchandise, so training was a breeze.” 

Crowley’s mug came down gently to rest on the table and one of his hands sought out Aziraphale’s. He gripped it tightly. “Hey. Y’know, I cold give you my number. That way if you need company in the middle of the night you could call me. I’m usually up.” 

Aziraphale giggled despite himself. “Are you suggesting I give you a booty call?” 

“Angel!” Crowley squawked, equal parts shocked and delighted. “Where did you learn to talk like that?” 

“My _dear_ , I am the Southern Pansy, after all,” Aziraphale teased. Crowley positively howled. 

The hours of the night wore on and eventually the storm began to slow. Rain pattered at the window pane at a less frantic pace and the thunder ceased it’s threatening roll. Aziraphale polished off both slices of lemon cake and he’d gone back and relieved Shadwell of some of his ‘secret’ stash of liquor. Newt and Shadwell were well and truly sloshed by the time Aziraphale bothered, so it wasn’t like they were going to miss it. 

Outside, the sky steadily grew lighter as dawn, and the end of the storm, approached. Aziraphale could better see Crowley’s long, elegant hands as he narrated store after story all while making wild hand gestures. All of the tales were very entertaining and still managed to tell him almost nothing about his new friend. 

“So then I said to him, ‘what do you mean you don’t know who Queen is, you wanker?’ And that’s when he brought the guitar down over my head. I never even saw it coming,” Crowley laughed. Aziraphale was chuckling and wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes when he noticed that the lights overhead were flickering to life once more. 

“Oh, isn’t that-” Aziraphale stopped, gazing at Crowley’s naked, open face in the suddenly bright diner. “Oh Crowley. They’re _beautiful_.” 

“Ngk!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please consider checking out my other fic here or come chat at me on Tumblr.
> 
> Find me on [ Tumblr ](https://madrabbitsociety.tumblr.com)  
> or on my [ My Blog ](https://www.madrabbitsociety.com/p/insta-links.html)
> 
> The original prompt was something like: "for fans of the coffeeshop au, i present the concept of: 24 Hour Diner AU. most plot action happens around 4am. there is always something vaguely eldritch going on in the background, no matter the writer’s intentions. always. the actual fic is pure plotless fluff. the protagonists are too wrapped up in their relationship anxieties to notice the minor character summoning/defeating cthulhu in the background" (Credit, I believe, goes to biggest-gaudiest-patronuses)


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